


Ghosting

by Gazerboi



Category: Original Work
Genre: Biting, Childhood Friends, Cunnilingus, Erotica, F/F, Female Protagonist, Ghost Cunnilingus, Ghost Sex, Halloween, Lesbians, Monstergirl, Mouthplay, Original Character(s), POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Scratching, Short, Slice of Life, Terato, Teratophilia, Woo Woo!, f/f - Freeform, ghost - Freeform, spoopy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 00:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21226676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gazerboi/pseuds/Gazerboi
Summary: You've moved back into your century-old childhood home just a few weeks ago after inheriting it from your parents, but quickly find that you're not living alone. Happy Halloween!





	Ghosting

You’ve lived in this rickety old pile of boards for a large portion of your life, but it was so strange moving back in. Nothing but a large New-England style two-story set in about the same locality. Your next-door neighbors are Canada and nowheresville USA. 

As you climb the rickety and frankly rather noisy stairs with your cat Oliver at your feet, you feel the crisp and cool fall air coming through one of the open windows. With the cold, the air also lets in the midnight sounds of frogs, chirping insects, and the soft babbling of the culvert outside that keeps the lake’s water from flowing over the road. 

The view isn’t any less calming, the red and orange of the fall leaves muted under the nearly-full moon’s light, just a few shadows of clouds obstructing you from seeing the celestial body in its full glory. The lake itself is still and quiet, but always carries that special feeling of childhood nostalgia. It all seemed so much bigger when you were a kid. You haven’t seen that view this often since you were sixteen. 

As you rest your weary hands on the windowsill, you’re started from your daze by the orange tabby mewling loudly, staring at something unseen down the hall. He’s been acting strange since you moved back in, and as you hear the facsimile of footsteps down the hall it almost makes you jump. Thankfully, nothing but the cool night air and your paranoid feline share the home with you. It was just the house settling in.

“Don’t scare me like that, Marcy.”

You mutter, going back to your stargazing for a few minutes. You chuckle to yourself a little as you do. Marcy was something of an imaginary friend during your childhood, it’s almost silly to bring her back up as an adult after you’ve inherited the house. You even had a crush on her for the longest time, which only makes the whole deal even more shame-inducing. The place has been here since the late eighteen-hundreds and makes strange noises all the time. Your parents thought it was haunted due to some of the goings-on, and when you were young, so did you.

The cat, of course, doesn’t care about your stance, still staring unblinkingly down the hallway, slowly looking up and happily purring at some unseen force. After having already been here a few weeks, you can’t bring yourself to pay it any mind. You don’t even jump when the stairs groan behind you. Instead, you simply proceed through the creaky wooden-floored halls to your bed, and promptly get undressed, flop down face-first, and pass out for the night. 

It’s late at the very least when you awake again. Tired, sleepy-eyed, and with an unfamiliar noise echoing through the empty vistas of darkness around you. Distinctly of a woman crying. Oliver is going ballistic, scratching at the door. You’re still entirely nude in bed, hugging at your comforter and trying your best not to make any excess noise. 

You stare at the exit to your room, still not quite sure what you’re hearing. The voice sounds familiar, tugging at some unseen strings in your mind. You’ve been living here alone for the past several months, and your nearest neighbors are miles away. It’s nearly impossible for this sort of thing to be happening. Stranger still is the insistent notion that the noise is coming from within the house. 

Covering yourself up with nothing but a too-long sweatshirt and some tiny shorts that hug at your hips, you manage to drag yourself up from under the covers to tiptoe across the creaky wooden floors. You nearly jump with each loud noise the boards make as they settle underneath you. Your steps are barely illuminated by the full moon leaking through the old windows. You’re reminded of sleepless, late nights in childhood summers when you’d sneak out to the pond, having to walk past this very room without waking up your parents. 

Following your ears, your heartbeat soars as they lead you not to your doorstep, but your old room at the end of the hall. You’ve since turned it into an art studio. You question whether you left your computer or tablet on as some soft, blue, spectral light leaks from just past the barely ajar door. The noise is louder than ever, but the crying seems to be dying down. Hopefully whatever is within hasn’t quite heard you yet. 

Overwhelmed by curiosity yet still taken by fear, you gently push at the door. Each inch it moves is a mile in your mind, and with each passing moment, the thing you fear most is the door’s hinges squeaking. 

Just barely looking inside the tiny gap, you finally see her. A semi-translucent woman glowing a soft blue is crumpled on the floor. Wearing a torn blouse that was once white but has since been stained with years of dirt and grime, ripped down the back edges. Her hip-high pants seem to be similarly stained, but all of it well compliments her slim and otherwise attractive form. Her most striking feature, at least from behind, is her hair. Long brown strands float through the air by the whims of invisible currents, as if underwater. The whole display looks far more voluminous than one can imagine it would have in life, but it seems it would have gone all the way down her back. Only now that you can see her you can finally make out the little sniveling whispers coming from her mouth. “Why can’t things just go back to the way they were… she’s back… but she can’t even…”

Your hands tremble, and you nearly stumble back at the sight. Something clicks in your mind as you whisper a name, still staring from your darkened corner. “Marcy?” She slowly looks up, her eyes white, featureless and glowing. She gasps at the sight of you… and you shriek at the sight of her, falling backward and landing ass first on the ground- the door coming open as you do. You crawl back across the floor, not quite daring to take your eyes off of the spectral woman inside your home, yet some strange insistence that you remember her seems to take over. 

She doesn’t seem to be crying anymore, although her voice is still shaky and saddened. She’s still quick, and that old twenties manner of speaking hasn’t faded a bit. “You… You can see me now? Why are you all shook up like that? I missed you…” She gets up, tears still staining her pale, white cheeks. Her expression only carries with it an immense worry, not quite sure what to make of your presence. 

You shake your head, staring at something that should not be. Her demeanor carries with it some level of calm, and past your initial terror even serves to invoke the feeling in you as well. She’s rather cute, now that you get a look at her. That feeling of familiarity gnaws at you though, you can swear you’ve seen that face somewhere, long ago. “I’m sorry I just… this can’t be real. You’re Marcy. Am I dreaming?”

The ghost smiles, offering you her hand. “And it’s been a good while since you waltzed those pretty little gams outta here. I told you I was nothin’ but a waking dream once, but it’s a tad harder to sell that ruse now. It’s me. This is real. I’m real.” She offers a nervous little giggle, sniffling and wiping her face on her sleeve. “Now quit starin’ all dumbfounded, you’re startin’ to make a girl nervous ‘bout her looks.” 

You sigh, shrugging for a moment before you grab her surprisingly corporeal, rather dainty hand and let her surprising strength drag you to your feet… and straight into a tight hug. She feels a little damp, but it doesn’t get into your clothes, and it’s as nice and cool as the fall air. All of a sudden, you feel yourself tearing up. In an almost whimpering, near breaking voice, “I missed you too, y’know.” 

You squeeze her a little harder, dwelling on all the nights spent by the lake or just staying up late and talking in your room. You later had thought yourself crazy for it, but now you have some form of validation, at least in your mind. 

Her arms hold you nice and tight, one firmly holding you around your back. The other hand gently moves through your hair, her well kept nails working across the back of your head and neck. She rubs her head against yours just the tiniest bit, and you start to feel her float off of the ground for a few moments. 

You happily nuzzle back into her, sniffling and wiping the tears leftover from your tender embrace out of your face. Your eyes close for a moment before you withdraw, blushing and just a little worked up. It seems that being in such close quarters with someone like her, especially when pre-existing feelings are there, might have you a tad worked up.

Marcy chuckles, looking you up and down as her legs move up into the air behind her, the girl leaning forward and freely floating in the air. Her finger gently boops you on the nose as she starts to smirk. “Boy, you haven’t changed a bit have you? Can’t so much as touch a Sheba like me without blushin’ up all cute.” Marcy motions to flip her hair back, forgetting for a moment its spectral floating and gets rudely surprised when it doesn’t respond. 

Marcy pouts for a moment, before letting her body whiz through the air behind you to put her hands on your shoulders, resting her chin on your neck. “As flattering as it’d be, I’m not even sure I’d believe it myself. Some cute little thing like yourself has better business than to be stuck on a dead dame.” Her voice is cheerful but carries some measure of bittersweet sadness.

You stutter for a moment, not quite having a response to the ghostly woman’s… flirting? She only needed a few seconds to joke about you being interested. Her experience on the subject doesn’t help. You finally gulp, and manage to get a hold on your words, not daring to move… you do feel comfortable in her grasp. “I would beg to differ. If anything about your last few visits carries this far.” No matter how you try to speak, your voice comes out tense and nervous.

Marcy raises a brow, reeling back for a second. “Y’know I was only yanking your chain right? You’re actually…” she bursts into uproarious laughter, holding her stomach as she rolls through the air behind you, only to whiz back in front of you in just a few moments, wiping a spectral tear from her eye. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect you to hold onto that old flame for so long! It gets _real_ lonely ‘round here, especially when you’re all see-through. I’m afraid I can’t really hold onto this whole touchy-feely bit of the deal for all too long, lately more than ever…” 

She rests her forehead against yours, wrapping her arms around the back of your neck and looking up at you. “But if you wanted, I suppose it wouldn’t be the worst thing to take advantage of it with a real looker like you.”

She smirks, pushing you backward a few steps until you’re right up against the wall of the hallway. Trapped between Marcy’s cold, slim, ethereal form and the century-old walls of your childhood home. 

You lay there, mouth nearly agape, spellbound by the woman who just wrapped herself around you. Your thoughts are racing, you can’t even formulate a reply other than just shakily resting your hands on her hips, feeling her body effortlessly move through the air in front of you. You simply hold her a little closer, your blush getting a bit deeper as you try to find somewhere to rest your gaze.

She happily wiggles her hips in your grasp, letting one of her hands move up your midriff and underneath your loose hanging sweatshirt. She chuckles as those fingers find nothing but skin, moving upwards to your breasts. The fabric hikes up with Marcy’s wrists, and the ghost smirks as she cups one of those soft pillows of flesh. “Look at you all dolled up! Dressed for the occasion I suppose.” She smirks at her clever little quip.

You attempt to respond, but your words are quickly muffled by Marcy’s soft, thin, feminine lips as she passionately kisses you. Her lashes flutter before her eyes close, and you find the same happening to you. You lose yourself in the lips of your childhood crush as she works desperately at your breast and brushing the back of your neck. 

Marcy brings her mouth along your cheek and down to your neck, the sensation of her fingers sinking into your sensitive teat still sending tiny little waves of heat through your body. Her lips are like velvet across your skin, and you feel her ethereal, flowing hair across your skin with each skilled movement of her mouth. She delivers kiss after kiss in a line towards your collarbone before suddenly she bites down. Marcy sucks hard at your skin and the stinging sensation of a hickey forming at the base of your neck becomes apparent and only drives you further into the depths of lust. Her breath plays across your skin, just colder than the fall breeze around you.

By this point you’ve tossed aside any notion of decency, your hands grabbing a little lower on the spectral woman’s hips, feeling the plush pillow of her bubbly booty through those high-waisted pants. With each passing moment of her ministrations, you have to stifle little gasps and attempt to right stunted breaths, all for naught. You’ve truly lost yourself to her wiles. 

Her eyes seem to have gained pupils of the purest, deepest black while you weren’t looking, staring up at you in some doe-eyed gaze. She peels her lips off of your skin to speak. “Y’know, if you wanted _that_ you could’ve just asked, doll! Here, lemme help!” Her free hand takes itself off of the back of your neck, to simply raise in the air and snap. All at once her clothes shred themselves to pieces, decaying at a rapid rate and falling off of her body until they’re nothing but floating dust the same blue as she is. 

All at once you’re graced with the appearance of her naked form. Her perky, tiny little breasts hang off of her slim frame, her midriff is delightfully toned, her abs are barely visible through her flawless skin, her butt is ever so slightly padded by muscle and fat. Between her slim, muscular thighs is her tight and well-kept snatch, just barely blooming with arousal and offering some moisture to the open air, reflecting ever so slightly in the dim moonlight. That ass offers just the barest of wobbles as she swings it through the air behind her. Marcy herself offers nothing but a pleased cackle, resuming her desperate gropings of your body.

You can’t help but let your fingers sink into that delicious derriere, feeling at the skin. Your other hand gravitates to the back of her head, grasping at her scalp and gently feeling at her smooth, spectral hair as it flows between your fingertips. Her every motion causes you to shiver by this point, especially as you’re so enamored by her form. 

Before you know it, her free hand has since moved down your hips and effortlessly pulled down your shorts, letting the tiny little garment fall to the floor around your ankles and expose your flower to the chilly fall air. She takes her hand off of your breast to let it slide down your sides, down to the rounded curvature of your butt. Instead of a gentle caress, Marcy offers one little squeeze, chuckling and looking up at you with a playful, “Honk.” 

All at once her face lowers down to your thighs, her body accommodating and lowering itself as well, although never does that butt leave the range of your grasp. All at once you can feel the cold air of her breath on your sex in a way that makes you shiver. One hand moves between your thighs to spread the flesh of your mons and further expose your needy tunnel to the open air, barely lubricated and just flushing with the beginnings of arousal.

Marcy licks her lips before her tongue slinks out of her mouth… several feet longer than it rightfully should. She giggles for a moment before the tip of it just tickles at the entrance to your sex. It laps circles around your needy entrance, just brushing past your clit and sometimes tracing little circles along its outline.

The ghost has to have noticed your stifled moans and gasps by this point, you’re practically going nuts up there! Your hand hasn’t moved at all from its firm post atop the ghost’s well-rounded ass and has almost reflexively halted its movement to squeeze it tightly. Although, the way she keeps wiggling it from time to time hints that she enjoys the feeling of your fingernails digging in ever so slightly. 

You manage to gain some composure, your hand still on the back of her head. You breathe deeply, wanting or perhaps needing that inhuman tongue inside you. Your fingers scritch a little behind Marcy’s ear, before shoving her face between your thighs. You squeeze hard at the feeling of that organ squirming as deep as it will go inside you, not to mention the way her lips hungrily lock around your fertile box. Her breath only gets faster and faster now, excited by the way you’re handling her. 

The hand on her ass is inactive no more, you raise it to greedily slap that fat booty, watching a beautiful ripple journey along its soft flesh and down her thighs until it suddenly disappears. Grabbing a handful for just a moment, you bring your fingers in between those wonderful cheeks to just trace along the outside of Marcy’s tight pucker, before traveling down to your partner’s honeypot. 

Your movements are a lot less practiced than Marcy’s, especially as that tongue starts to delve deeper and deeper, moving in ways only a prehensile limb can. Your shaky fingers rub against her entrance, waiting for the natural lubricant inside that spectral snatch to build with the ghost’s pure arousal. Not a moment after before shoving one inside that tunnel to feel a sudden squeeze around it. 

Guided by your hand, Marcy’s head is firmly planted against your snatch. You treat your partner to a veritable buffet of your slick feminine lubricant. This is something that her tongue wastes no time in taking full advantage of. Its inhuman length is rivaled only by its speed, zipping along your walls to press up against each side in unpredictable motions that make your legs weak at the knees. You can hear Marcy grunt from beneath you, and it occurs to you that she doesn’t even need to breathe… 

All at once, Marcy’s ass rips itself from your grip, causing your fingernails to rake across its surface, leaving little marks along its once perfect skin and letting it jiggle in the open air after it breaks free. At the same time, your finger appears to just… phase out from within her. Apparently the ghost can simply choose what does and doesn't pass through her in this state. Her body does a full one-eighty in the air, her head even rotating without leaving its perfect little perch between your thighs. Her thighs rocket to their rightful place around your head, and you can feel the athletic muscles within squeezing your face before some invisible force pushes it up against Marcy’s entrance. 

The telltale scent of her arousal nearly drives you into a frenzy, and you desperately kiss her lower lips as if it were the last kiss you’d ever get. Your tongue is a lot less skilled than hers, but each dive into her cold depths is rewarded by a tiny little moan from the ghost below, vibrating against your snatch beautifully. What you don’t have in expertise you make up for with sheer fervor, now planting both hands on the beautiful ass just on the other side of those wondrous hips and forcefully pushing that snatch up against your face. You can barely breathe with how recklessly you’re pushing your nose against the ghost’s taint, and any air you do get is corrupted with the smell of Marcy’s lust. 

Your spectral partner doesn’t lose any composure with her mounting lust, and instead only seems to up the ante. That tongue isn’t squirming or writhing anymore so much as letting loose powerful, wriggling thrusts deep into your passage, feeling it squeeze and spasm around the organ. Her fingernails dig into your ass, scratching burning paths along its flesh as she desperately tries to emulate your sheer enthusiasm.

You can feel it in your core, the orgasm slowly building up within with the relentless thrusts of that tongue. Each one brings with it enough force to make your ass bounce behind you against Marcy’s hands, causing each to grope more and more. Carelessly you let it build, threatening to overtake you any moment now.

You can’t lose composure here, you steel yourself and plunge your head between Marcy’s legs with a renewed fervor, having to stifle and beat back moans of pure ecstasy with each passing moment. Your tongue laps up every bit of feminine lubricant it can from the ghostly woman, before you feel her tunnel squeeze around your tongue just a bit harder, the ghost underneath you shuddering. 

Marcy’s thighs squeeze harder around your head, and soon enough you feel her scream out against your sex. Your face is spattered with her sexual juices, and soon enough you feel your orgasm wash over you, that familiar, gentle warmth rushing all around your body. Marcy treating herself on what little lubricant is left in your passage, your fingers still firmly planting her head against it. 

Your legs give out beneath you, causing you to let go of the ghostly woman in front of you and slowly slink down the wall. Marcy finally gives in, pulling away and retracting her tongue. 

Her body slowly flips back right side up in the air, and she smiles dumbly in your direction, before hugging you nice and close. “Well golly-gee, you aren’t quite as bad at that as I thought!” She cackles again, nuzzling into your shoulder. 

You, however, can barely move after the sheer pounding your pussy just received, stuck on your knees with your back against the wall and a naked ghost still pressing her body into yours. She speaks up again, not even giving you time to truly respond, especially in your current state. The only noises you’re capable of really making are tiny little whimpers. “I missed you so much, I’m happy I could give you something of what you wanted at least once. I used up a lot of energy there, so I can’t really…” 

Marcy is cut off by her voice fading into nothingness, her body slowly becoming more and more translucent, before she becomes invisible again altogether… Looking out the window, dawn is peeking up over the mountains outside… somehow you were up all night, or maybe it was just close to morning? Either way, tired would be an understatement to truly describe how you’re feeling. Your eyes rebelliously drift closed as black overtakes your vision… you pass out.

The sound of your alarm going off is the first thing you hear when you awake, and peeling yourself off of the covers of your bed… wait, your bed? You raise a brow as you experience a sense of displacement upon awakening in the same position on top of your own covers, Oliver still nestled at the foot of the mattress. You sit up, blinking and taking in the reality of what this might mean. Tears form in your eyes as you hug yourself and fall backward atop your pillows… only to feel a stinging sensation on the side of your neck.

You press inward on the mark, only for the feeling to intensify with aching pain. Surely it’s a bruise, but you rush to the bathroom regardless. You fling the door open and don’t even care that the knob slams into the wall. You brush your hair aside to inspect it in the mirror over the sink. It takes a moment to realize the implications of what you witness. Sure enough, it’s a hickey. Your eyes widen as you stare in disbelief.

Through the mirror though, you notice something else peeking from behind the shower curtains… a pale hand, glowing with some weak, blue light. All of a sudden, the curtains are shoved aside to reveal the translucent form of Marcy. She cackles, staring at you through the mirror, smiling nice and wide. “Y’know, I think somethin 'bout last night made me a bit more _permanent_. Trick or treat, Tuts?”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Depending on feedback, I might continue this! It's a fun and cute little story that I like in concept and can definitely run with. I'll leave the number of chapters ambiguous for now, but I'd love to have a cutesy slice of life running in the background while I work on more fucktales.


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